


AKA Max

by Preelikeswriting



Series: Penny and Dime [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Here's a Jessica centric one, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, mentions of Killgrave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 07:45:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9809900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Preelikeswriting/pseuds/Preelikeswriting
Summary: I refuse to believe Franks dog just up and died wherever the Irish chained her up, so the obvious solution was to give her to Jessica.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Nope, don't own anything. Not even Max the dog.

Jessica hugged her hoodie tighter around her middle as she lowered herself onto on of the park benches scattered around the area letting out a hiss as her bruised ribs protested the movement. She slowly brought the brown paper bag concealing her booze up to her lips and savored in the fire that burned down her throat. The bitterly cold air of Hell’s Kitchen seemed befitting of her dark mood, the burn of the wind on her cheeks helping to keep her grounded in the moment.

Today had been a bad day. Malcolm had set up a case for her to work, a stalker. A pretty blonde girl just out of high school who was far too much like Hope. She knows that Malcolm didn’t do it intentionally, they actually didn’t look all that alike but, something about her just kept pulling her back. The case itself wasn’t hard. The asshole was was big though, hence the bruised ribs, but she doubted he’d be back. Open and shut.

However, she couldn’t get herself to head home quite yet. There was still too much purple just out of the corner of her eye. Too many times she could have sworn he was just there, standing over her shoulder watching as he had been prone to do. She wasn’t ready yet to go back to her busted up apartment and watch as Malcolm gave her those sad puppy dog eyes and tried to get her to talk to someone. Talk is cheap. She couldn’t do that again.

Trish had made her go after the first time, and the moment she had trusted her to go on her own she had quit. The feeling of the psychiatrist picking apart her thoughts and feelings had been bad enough, but to then turn around and spew some self love bullshit? It was enough to make Jessica want to scream. So yea, talking wasn't really an option for her. Drinking however, drinking worked. Sort of. But what really worked was distractions, and right now, she was fresh out of those.

She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew was the feeling of something wet sliding across her face. She jerked upright, dark thoughts consuming her mind making it hard to think straight, tinging her vision with purple. In her hurry to get away she fell off the edge of the bench landing hard on the ground and violently jarring her ribs knocking the breath out of her as she landed. She drew breath painfully as her vision cleared, ears now able to hear beyond the loud roar that had filled them since she was woken. The low whimpering noise was what fully cemented her in the present though.

Rolling her head to the right she took in the sight of a stray looking dog its head meekly bowed.

“Yea, you better be goddamn sorry.” Jessica muttered as she, wincing, pulled herself to her feet before stooping over to retrieve what hadn’t spilled from her poison of the evening. She took a few steps before pausing to look back at the dog, “please, the ex-druggy next door is more sympathetic than you.” and she kept walking.

“Stop following me.” and walking.

“I’m not taking you home with me.” and walking

“I own no people food, much less dog food.” and walking

“Listen sweetheart, I have a strict one bitch per apartment limit, and I’m certainly not moving out to make room for you.” and stopped and stared down at the Rottweiler-Pitbull mix.

“...”

“If you want to be walked, You’ll have to beg Malcolm.” The dog barked happily and trailed behind Jessica wagging her tail.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“A dog Jessica?”  
  
“Don’t judge me Malcolm.”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Max? Short for Maxine? Maxie?”

“Nope, Max and Lucy were the first two results when you type in “Dog Names” and she really doesn’t strike me as a Lucy.”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Malcolm takes Max on runs in the morning, and Jessica takes her out perv hunting at night. Jessica takes quiet satisfaction to the fact that the dog does more to help her on her bad days than any therapist ever did. All it took was Max’s head in her lap for Jessica to start pulling herself back together. Killgrave after all, had hated dogs. The sick fuck. But really, it was just nice not to be alone all the time. Clients stopped telling her to fix her door all the time, and going out for a late night drink no longer meant putting up with wolf whistles and hansy drunks, and attempted muggings were at an all time low.

The first time she got a real look into what her dog might have been into before moving in with her was when she out late one night talking dirty pictures of a client's husband. It was cold, and windy, and dark, and her target was doing way too much talking and not nearly enough fooling around. So she had let herself drift, and because of that she didn’t hear the guy come up behind her till he was breathing down her neck.

“Hey babe, you wan-” he never got to finish his question, his hand barely landed on her waist before Max tackled him to the the ground, her teeth bared at the man's throat before Jessica had time to do more than stiffen. She had let Max sit on his chest for a second waiting for the man to fully understand the gravity of his situation before calling her off, and letting the man scramble to his feet and down the street. Jessica had taken special note of Max’s scares that night, before handing her one of the treats from the box that had magically appeared on her desk one day. Max got to sleep in Jessica's bed that night.

When Trish sent Jessica official Alias Investigations business cards the week after, she made sure to include the names of all three employees.

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to try one from Jess's POV. Sorry that there's no Frank in this one, he was off... lets say... getting lectured at by Matt... or... beating up animal abusers...or something.
> 
> As always, any ideas you have for future fics feel free to tell me in the comments


End file.
